Act of God (26 page)

“I’m sorry,” Brian said hastily. “I didn’t mean to imply that you… I mean, most of us can’t make it on one income these days.”

“How true,” the teacher said.

The prosecutor turned on the charm. “In my blundering way,” he said a bit sheepishly, “I was just trying to set up a scenario
here, a hypothetical, if you will.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Well, what I was getting to was, let’s say your wife became pregnant with number seven. And let’s say that for whatever reason—physical,
or financial, or psychological—she didn’t feel she could handle having another child at that point, and decided to have an
abortion without telling you. How would you feel about that?”

“I think I’d feel absolutely terrible,” Stuart replied, playing along. “Angry and confused, and certainly sick at heart. I
admit, having six kids hasn’t been easy at times, but my wife and I, we’ve always rejected the idea of abortion for ourselves.”

“Would you feel an appropriate response to your wife’s action would be to bomb the facility where the abortion had been performed,
and to kill as many people as possible in the process?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then that leaves me with just one more question. How do you feel about the death penalty?”

“Another thorny issue, and one that’s frequently debated in my classroom,” the teacher responded. “Well, whether we like it
or not, it’s the law of the land, isn’t it? And I suppose, if it should come to it, I’ll abide by the law.”

The prosecutor was satisfied. Absent an out-and-out advocate for women’s rights, a committed neutral would do.

“What’s your position on the subject of abortion?” Brian asked a forty-year-old, divorced real estate agent from Bellevue.

“I think what a woman does with her own body should be up to her,” Karleen McKay, Juror Number 14, responded.

“Have you been following this case?”

The still shapely brunette shrugged. “How could I not? I’d have to be deaf and blind to avoid it. It’s been crammed down our
throats for months now.”

“Well then, do you believe that what you’ve heard has influenced you in any way?”

“Not particularly. Especially when you consider that everything put out there has been pretty much one-sided.”

“So you think you would be able to keep an open mind if you were selected for this jury?”

“Yes.”

Brian gave her an appreciative smile, as much for her appearance as her responses, and took his seat.

“You just said that everything you’ve heard about this case so far has been pretty much one-sided,” Dana began. “May I take
that to mean you didn’t see the Barbara Walters interview in July?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I did see that,” Karleen replied.

“Well then, compared to everything else you’d been exposed to during the past few months, how did that come across to you?”

“Well, to be honest, it was the first positive thing I’d heard about your client,” the Realtor said. “Everything else was
so negative. And it made it seem like he was very nice, with a good upbringing and good values and all. Of course, it was
his parents doing the talking, so it stands to reason they would want to show him in the best possible light.”

“Do you think that the interview in any way tempered some of the other perceptions being circulated about this case?”

“Yes, I think it did. The police and the prosecutors have really gone out of their way to try to demonize the defendant, you
know. And don’t get me wrong, I can understand that it’s their job to do that sort of thing. But the interview with the parents
was sort of sweet, and it tried to humanize him. I liked that.”

“I understand that you’re pro-choice,” Dana continued, changing direction.

“That’s right.”

“Tell me, is that a personal conviction or a political one?”

The Realtor shrugged. “I’m not sure I understand where the line gets drawn. I believe that the right of free choice is fundamental
to freedom. I would hate to think what would happen if we lost that right. Do I believe that abortion should be used as a
convenient method of birth control? No, I absolutely don’t. Would I campaign to keep abortion legal? Yes, if it came to that,
I think I would. But would I get all militant about it, like some people out there do? Probably not.”

“May I ask, have you ever had an abortion?”

“Yes, I have,” Karleen replied, not at all defensively. “It was some years ago, and I believe it was the right thing for me
to do at the time. Would I make the same decision today?” She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I certainly wouldn’t want anyone
telling me I couldn’t.”

“Thank you,” Dana said softly, sincerely. “I appreciate your candor. Now, you told the prosecutor a few moments ago that you
felt you could keep an open mind during this trial. Forgive me, but I must ask—do you truly believe you can keep your own
personal experience from influencing you?”

The woman sighed. “Look, I didn’t ask to be here,” she replied. “I was summoned. Okay, I’m here. Frankly, I’d rather be in
Tahiti, but I believe in people doing their civic duty. So, I’m willing to serve on this jury, if that’s what you want. Or
not,
if it isn’t. Do I believe that abortion should be legal? Yes, I do. Do I think that automatically makes the defendant in this
case guilty? No, I don’t. That’s where I stand. The rest is up to you.”

Lucy Kashahara had developed a code system. A check mark represented those from the jury pool that she believed would be best
suited to sit in judgment of Corey Latham. An X was used for those who were to be excluded at all costs. In between, there
were circles for those who were likely to be neutral, and a question mark for those who Lucy considered potentially risky.
Next to Rose Gregory’s name, the consultant had placed a check. Next to Stuart Dunn’s, she had put a circle. Beside Karleen
McKay’s name, Dana could clearly see a question mark.

“You can’t be thinking of putting her on, can you?” whispered Joan, as she saw Dana hesitate. “She’s obviously pro-choice.
She’s going to line right up behind the prosecution.”

“I know, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to be here,” Dana whispered back. “That means she isn’t coming in with a
major agenda. I don’t think Bendali will accept a dismissal for cause, and we’ve only got one peremptory challenge left. I’m
afraid we might find worse down the line.”

“I’d pass her,” Charles Ramsey said from the other end of the table.

“Do you think McAuliffe will put McKay on?” Mark Hoffman asked Brian.

“Like us, she’s only got so many challenges,” Brian replied. “She’ll have to pass on some of the maybes.”

Successful mystery book writer Allison Ackerman turned sixty during the month of jury selection. With peaches-and-cream skin
and hardly any gray in her abundant auburn hair, she looked more like forty. For most of the month, she sat in Room C701,
where she read, played solitaire, worked jigsaw puzzles,
and watched as others came and went. She made it to the ninth floor in the second to last group of twenty.

When it was finally her turn to be summoned to the courtroom, she followed the bailiff down the length of it to the front
row of the jury box, settled herself in a black leather chair, and took a deep breath.

The judge was as imposing a figure as any she might have created for her books, a monster of a man who appeared, on the one
hand, to be paying scant attention, and on the other, to be in total control of the proceedings he presided over from his
perch on the bench. The attorneys, by comparison, looked rather small. Not mean or insignificant in any way, just small. Small
in stature, as though, if they weren’t careful, they would get lost in the big room.

Finally, the author focused her attention on the accused. He sat quietly at the table farthest away from her, dressed in jeans
and a denim shirt, obviously paying attention, listening to the conversations that whirled around him, but making no effort
to participate.

Allison was aware that over the past several months the defendant had become a poster boy for the antiabortion movement, and
she had to concede it was an engaging image. Corey Latham was wholesome and handsome, and bore no resemblance whatsoever to
her concept of how a cold-blooded terrorist should look.

The mystery writer did not particularly believe in the death penalty, even under normal circumstances. But in this case, appealing
or not, if there were so much as a chance the defendant was guilty of bombing Hill House, she knew it would not trouble her
at all to convict him and sentence him to death.

“Why do you want to serve on this jury?” Brian asked her, the question catching her off-guard.

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I wasn’t aware that I did.”

“Well, as I understand it, you’ve opted out of jury duty on three previous occasions.”

“Well, we’re talking about a ten-year span here, but as I recall, on two of those occasions, I had manuscript deadlines that
simply had to be met,” the author explained smoothly. “On the third occasion, I believe I had a promotion tour already booked
that my publicist was unable to reschedule.”

Brian was polite but persistent. “And this time, you couldn’t get out of it?”

“I didn’t try.”

“Do you see this case as material for some future novel? Has your agent already entered negotiations with your publisher?”

Allison was not the least bit intimidated. “Sorry, but I don’t write legal thrillers,” she said with a smile.

“But you do write about murder?”

“Oh, yes. In every conceivable manner.”

“And would you say that years of writing about murder have made you indifferent to it?”

“Hardly,” Allison replied, with just a hint of mockery in her voice. “As it’s my livelihood, I take murder very seriously.
At least as seriously as I’m sure you do.”

“And do you think you could be impartial during this trial?”

“Of course.” She lowered her voice a notch. “I’ll tell you a little secret. I never completely decide on my villain until
the very end of the story.”

Brian frowned slightly as he took his seat. Here was a woman that he knew was as close to being a perfect ally as he was likely
to find in a juror, and she was sparring with him, playing games. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was exactly,
but there was something about her he didn’t like. Maybe it was his sense that she carried her feminist agenda like a shield
instead of a banner. On the other hand, she was solidly pro-choice, and he was going to need her.

“The consultant says she’s a card-carrying member of FOCUS,” Mark whispered in delight.

“I know,” Brian conceded with a sigh. “But I have this feeling about her.”

“We’ve only got one peremptory left,” Mark reminded him. “Do you really want to spend it on her?”

“No.”

“McAuliffe will probably kick her, anyway.”

“Let’s hope,” Brian said.

Dana stared at the big black X beside Allison Ackerman’s name. Common sense and Lucy Kashahara were both telling her to excuse
the author out of hand, but something stopped her, not the least of which was her one remaining challenge.

“You’re a women’s rights activist, aren’t you?” she asked pleasantly.

“Yes, I am,” the author replied without the slightest hesitation.

“And you’ve been in the thick of the debate right from the beginning, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have. I believe women have been relinquishing their rights to alleviate men’s insecurities for far too long. It’s
the twenty-first century, for god’s sake. Isn’t it way past time for us to be in control of our lives, our minds, and our
bodies?”

“Do you believe in winning at all costs?”

“In what context?”

“I’m asking if you’d be able to separate this case from your cause. Or if you would be willing to convict an innocent man
simply to further your feminist agenda.”

Dana thought she saw a flicker of respect in the author’s eyes.

“Yes to the first point,” the mystery writer declared. “And no to the second. At least, not if I truly thought the man might
be innocent.”

“Do you believe that Corey Latham is responsible for the bombing of Hill House?”

Allison shrugged. “I have no idea,” she said. “And I don’t expect I’d be able to answer that question until I had heard all
the evidence both for and against him.”

Dana considered the woman for a long moment. One challenge and three more jurors still to select. She had thought for a moment
there that Brian was going to excuse the author, but he hadn’t. Maybe he was hedging his bets, relying on her pro-choice position,
and hoping to hang on to the last of his challenges, as was she.

Joan shoved the list, with the X beside Ackerman’s name in plain sight, under Dana’s nose. “Why are you hesitating?” she whispered.
“You’ve got to kick this one. She’s got agenda written all over her.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dump her,” Ramsey said.

Dana thought about how thorough and accurate Lucy Kashahara’s evaluations always were. Still, there was something about Allison
Ackerman that she sensed in person rather than saw in the data that Lucy and Craig Jessup had compiled. The defense attorney
bit her lip. She knew Bendali would not excuse the woman for cause, not after two clear declarations of impartiality. If she
wanted her off the jury, it was going to cost her the last of her peremptory challenges. Dana leaned back in her chair with
resignation. It was for making decisions like this, she knew, that she was being paid the big bucks.

“I believe that abortion is a mortal sin,” Marie Delmonica declared. “And I believe we must all do everything in our power
to put an end to it.”

“Does that include murder?” Brian asked.

“Abortion is murder,” the woman said. “An eye for eye, a tooth for a tooth—a death for a death.”

“Excuse for cause, Your Honor,” Brian said.

“Mrs. Delmonica,” Bendali inquired, appearing to lean over the bench, “given your position on abortion, do you believe you
could render an impartial verdict in this case?”

The woman blinked rapidly several times. “I think I could be as impartial as the next person,” she said. “Am I sorry the abortionists
are dead? No, I most certainly am not. Am I sorry the abortuary is destroyed, so that no more innocent babies can be murdered
there? Not for a minute. But that doesn’t mean I’d automatically vote to acquit a man if I believed he killed those helpless
children in the day care center, not to mention the babies who had just been born, and the triplets who were about to be born,
and all those other innocent people I heard about. That’s murder, too, isn’t it?”